The Woman at the Bar
by MoonshoesWeasley
Summary: Harry meets an intriguing woman at at Muggle pub. Sex ensues. If you think he's being skeezy, make sure you read the whole thing. ;)


Disclaimer: All original content belongs to JK Rowling and associated. I make no money or profit in any way from this story. It's all for fun! :)

Harry was fucking _exhausted._ As one of the more senior Aurors, he had the lovely task of training the most recent graduating class. They came in the first day cocky and assured of their greatness, much as he and Ron had done themselves. Half an hour into training, however, he'd made them very aware of the fact that this wasn't a game. Being an Auror meant constantly being in life or death situations and having to make decisions that affected the safety of the wizarding community. It wasn't a place to fawn over Harry Potter or act like an arrogant little twat _._

He was now at the end of his second week of the training program, and they'd put him through through his paces. They were a good crop, but they were still complete idiots, in that fresh out of the academy way. He'd no doubt that he'd whip them into shape, just...did it have to take so fucking _long_?

He made his way to the fireplaces at the ministry entrance, nodding politely to the many workers who greeted him as he passed. He didn't have the energy to stop and talk-much to the disappointment of many, it seemed. He didn't even have the energy to feel bad about it. He was just ready to get home, relax on the sofa, and maybe talk Ginny into having Kreacher cook and then send him off somewhere so they could have some time to themselves. Yeah, he thought. That sounds nice.

A few seconds later he stumbled out of the fireplace at his and Ginny's flat. He expected to see her sprawled out on the sofa with her nose in the latest issue of _Seeker Weekly_ , as that was how he usually found her when he got home from work. It was the Quidditch off-season, so she had early morning practices and the occasional public appearance, and spent the rest of the time redecorating their fairly new (to them) flat and planning their wedding. He liked it; he'd gotten used to coming through the Floo and seeing her there, clad in only an oversized t-shirt (usually his) and one long leg flung over the back of the couch.

Ginny wasn't there, however, and Harry frowned. She hadn't told him of any plans, and it wasn't like her to not be at home without letting him know why. He drew his wand and cautiously moved through the house, checking every room. They were all empty, however, and he ended his search in the kitchen. There he found the note stuck on the fridge:

 _H-_

 _Meeting Luna and Hermione for dinner and wedding plans. Last minute get together. Be home late!_

 _Love,_

 _G_

"Damn." There went Harry's plans for the evening, but an alternate idea was quickly forming. He glanced around the kitchen, not really looking at anything but mulling things over. It was disappointing that Ginny wasn't home, sure, but the night was young. He took a few minutes to take a quick shower and then headed out through the flat's front door. He had a slight spring in his step as he walked down the street, his earlier exhaustion completely gone. Harry had a feeling the night wouldn't be a waste after all.

* * *

The woman at the bar glanced over at the sound of the chime above the pub door. The man that walked in stopped and glanced around, almost as if he was looking for someone. The woman turned away, signaling to the barkeep that she needed a refill. He had just reached for her glass when she became aware of someone sliding onto the chair next to her.

"I'll have what she's having." The barkeep looked at her with a raised eyebrow, making sure that she was okay with the newcomer.

"Two whiskeys, then, please. Neat. You can put them on his tab."

"Cheeky. Who said I wanted to buy you a drink?"

The woman turned, new drink in her hand. The man she had seen walk in was sitting beside her, smiling slightly and looking at her with a glint in his eye (although, she supposed, it could just be his glasses). "Well, lets see," she answered. "Apart from the fact that you used probably the worst line in existence, how many open seats do you see in this pub?" She grinned as she watched the man glanced around at the many vacant chairs and booths.

"All right, then, you caught me. What's your name?"

"Olivia. Yours?"

"Har-Harold. It's Harold."

"Nice to meet you then, Harold." Olivia held her glass up and they toasted. She took a sip and shuddered slightly, still not quite tipsy enough to ignore the burn. She noticed Harold shift his body so that their knees touched. "What brings you here tonight?"

Harold shrugged, and she watched him push his hair out of his eyes. It was on the longer side; long enough for him to tuck the stray strands behind his ear. It suited him, she thought. She liked how it brushed against the collar of his shirt, she liked how soft it looked. It would probably feel good between her fingers, should she got the opportunity to run them through it. "Nothing else planned. Hard day at work, figured I may as well head to the pub and grab a drink."

Olivia turned towards him, her foot coming to rest against his calf. She tilted her head and ran her finger around the rim of her glass, knowing very well the effect it would have. Sure enough, Harold swallowed and shifted again, almost as if he was suddenly uncomfortable. She smiled. "A hard day doing what, exactly? What do you do?"

He looked uncomfortable for a different reason. "Er, I...I work in law enforcement. I'm in charge of training the new recruits."

"Oh! How exciting. And dangerous. Is that how you got that scar?" She reached up and placed a finger against the unusual scar on his forehead. It extended past his hairline and bisected his eyebrow before coming to an end just above his cheekbone. It looked a remarkably like a bolt of lightning. She traced it until his eyeglasses got in the way, only removing her hand after pushing the same stray lock of hair behind his ear again. Her hand trailed down his arm and she brushed her fingers across more scars etched across the back of his hand. "And these?" His face was slightly flushed, and she could swear his breathing had quickened.

"I get scars in my line of work, yeah. These didn't come from work, though. I was young."

"Must have been pretty bad then, I reckon."

He chuckled. "Some might say that. I found a fair spot of trouble, though. But I want to hear about you."

Olivia took her long ponytail in her hands and pulled it from one shoulder to the next as she ran down its length. She watched Harold watch her and smiled. "Oh, I'm not too exciting."

He smirked and leaned toward her, one of his arms coming to drape against the back of her chair. "Something tells me that you're plenty exciting. Tell me something about you. Anything."

She angled her head towards his and smiled. "Anything?" He nodded; he seemed unable to speak. She reached towards him and slid her fingers in his hair so that she could tug his head towards hers. When he was close enough, she put her lips next to his ear and whispered. "I'm not wearing anything under this dress."

"Fuck." Olivia giggled at the profanity, exhaled on a shaky breath. "You _are_ a cheeky thing, aren't you?"

"Well, you asked for anything. Your turn."

He raised an eyebrow. "It's a game now, is it?" She just smiled. "Let's see then...anything about me, yeah?" When she nodded, he pulled her back towards him so that he could do the whispering this time. "It's a good thing you aren't wearing anything under your dress, because all I can think about is getting you somewhere private and getting it off of you. One less thing for me to tear through, right?"

Olivia moaned softly and reached for his hand. She placed it on her thigh, near the hem of her dress. "My turn. Something about me is that I think I'll die if you don't touch me."

A look of surprise crossed his face. "Here?"

She nodded. "Nobody can see us. Get closer to me, like that...and then if I just put my bag here, on the back of my chair...perfect. See? Nobody will even pay attention."

Harold looked uncertain. "I don't-I don't know. This has been fun, but...are you sure?" She grabbed his elbow and pushed his hand underneath her dress in answer. He hesitated for a moment, but when she dragged her teeth over her lower lip and mouthed _please_ at him, he waited no longer.

She spread her legs slightly as he moved his rough hand across her smooth skin. She had scooted to the edge of her seat so that he could reach the place that she was so desperately wanting to be touched. After what felt like hours of his calloused palm sliding towards her center, he finally made contact. She almost came right then and there, and it was all she could do to bite her lip to keep from crying out. He made his movements subtle so that they didn't get caught, but just the friction of his long finger against her slickness was enough to send shivers down her spine.

"See? Not so bad," she said shakily. He just smirked; it drove her wild. That sly smile coupled with the finger currently rotating around her clit was going to send her over the edge, but she needed more. She reached out to grab his collar and hauled him towards her. She smashed her lips against his in a quick, hard, needy kiss. It lasted only a second before she pulled away and whispered: "I'm headed to the loo. Wait a few minutes and follow me." She grabbed her bag and slid off her chair before he could ask her to wait.

* * *

Harry watched his companion turn the corner. The black dress she wore flattered her figure but left enough to the imagination to be alluring. His heart pounded at the thought of bending her over and flipping the skirt of the dress up, so he could get at what was underneath. That woman...she pushed his buttons in the best way. He couldn't wait to return the favor.

He spotted his forgotten drink and downed it quickly, not even noticing the burn. He couldn't believe he was about to do this. Having sex in the women's toilet of a Muggle pub wasn't how he planned to spend his evening...but here he was.

He tossed a few notes on the bar top, plenty to cover the two drinks (and then some). He figured it had been enough time, so he headed in the same direction she'd gone. He gripped his wand as he walked down the hallway and cast a few enchantments, just to ensure that they weren't disturbed. Thankfully, he didn't meet anyone on the way-how in the world would he explain that? When he reached the restroom door, he knocked softly.

The door swung open and he felt a pair of hands grab at the sides of his shirt. He was pulled into the restroom and immediately connected with a soft and warm body. His arms went around her waist of their own accord as their mouths met. This kiss was sloppy, fast, rough; full of want and need and now.

He couldn't take it. She'd been driving him wild all night and he was pretty sure he'd combust if he had to wait much longer. He quickly fumbled his way through taking off his belt and unfastening his trousers and had every intention of dropping them to the floor, but she stopped him.

"Wait. I want to taste you." He was about to protest, say that he needed to be inside her, but she quickly freed him from his briefs and took him in her mouth. A few choice swear words escaped his lips as she sucked his length and laved her tongue over what she couldn't reach. His hand found the back of her head (he would swear later that he didn't know how that happened) and he pushed slightly, guiding her to take in as much of him as she could. She moaned around him; the vibrations shot right to his brain and he almost saw stars. Her nails dug into his arse and she pushed as well, and he hit the back of her throat. Harry pulled back, not wanting to hurt her. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked, providing a delicious sensation along his shaft as he slowly pulled himself out of her mouth.

He grabbed her by the arms and hauled her up to him so that their mouths could meet again. She opened her lips immediately and his tongue slid against hers before he captured her bottom lip in between his teeth and bit gently. The kiss was broken only by his turning her away from him and walking them towards the vanity.

Luckily, the countertop was at the perfect height. She bent at the waist and gripped its edge, watching in the mirror as he finally _finally_ flipped her dress up. She was naked and dripping and gorgeous and watching him look at her sent a shiver down her spine. They made eye contact and he smirked. Without speaking, she watched as he licked the tip of his thumb and pressed it against her opening. The pressure was maddening; she needed something, _anything_ inside of her. She pushed back against his finger and they both moaned as it slipped in.

"Harry, please. I need it."

"Who's Harry? I'm Harold, remember?" He smirked at her in the mirror.

"Shut up and just get on with it!"

"This was your idea, remember? Go to a Muggle pub, pretend we don't know each other, have sex in the loo? Don't give up on it now, when we've so nearly reached the end," he teased.

"Sorry, I can't think straight when your thumb is inside of me and I'm in desperate need for something better," she answered, punctuating her sentence with a push of her hips.

"Fair enough." Harry withdrew his finger and it felt like ages until-

"Oh, yes, finally, been thinking about this all day." He started an achingly slow rhythm in answer. "No, come on, faster, please. I need it, baby, please," she begged. He picked up speed, but it still wasn't enough. "Faster, Harry."

Their eyes met in the mirror. His face was flushed and his glasses had slid down the bridge of his nose, but he'd never looked sexier. "Say my name again, Ginny," he said, and then she was _certain_ that he was the sexiest man on the planet.

She said his name and he thrust into her faster, harder, deeper. He reached forward and pulled the collar of her dress down so that he could palm her breast. She mimicked him, taking the other in her own hand. He must have enjoyed seeing that in because he ground out a " _fucking_ hell" and buried himself in her to the hilt. She closed her eyes at the sensation.

"No, look at me. Say my name."

Her eyes snapped open and connected with his again. She could see everything in the mirror: her long legs spread open with Harry between them, the skirt of her dress flipped up and exposing her hips and buttocks, one of her breasts in his hand and the other in her own. She saw their flushed faces and swollen lips and wild hair and-

"Harry yes, you'll make me come, Harry, keep going-"

"Fuck, Ginny, me too, I love to hear you say my na-"

"Harry, Harry, HarryHarry _Harry_ -" and then she was coming, chanting his name as her orgasm raced through her. He followed suit, her name on his lips becoming a whisper as he pulsed inside of her.

Ginny splashed some water on her face in a (failed) attempt to not look quite so thoroughly sexed. She smiled as she watched Harry fasten his trousers. "Thanks for playing along with me. I knew I was onto something with those Muggle magazines."

"Well if everything you read in them leads to sex like that, that would be fine by me. You should feel lucky that I remembered your signal. What if I'd thought you really had gone out?"

"I guess I would have found another man to shag in the bathroom."

Harry laughed and kissed her forehead. "Noted. Ready to go home?" He glanced around to make sure they'd put the place back in order. "I have to say, I didn't expect this level of cleanliness from a pub toilet."

She laughed. "You should have seen it before I got in her. What do you think I made you wait for? I _Scourgify_ -d it, of course." They exited the room and headed back towards the pub. "Do you think anyone noticed?"

"I'm pretty sure the enchantments I cast were good, but I was pretty distracted. Probably not, thou-"

Harry was interrupted by the barkeep poking him in the chest. "I know what you two were doing back there, and I'd thank you to not do it in my pub. This is a well respected establishment and I gonna have to bar you for life," he said angrily. He was red in the face with rage, and Harry reached for his wand to modify the man's memory before he could get started on a proper tirade.

"Sorry sir, Harold and I just couldn't help ourselves. Hope you understand," Ginny said as she placed a restraining hand on Harry's arm. "We swear we won't do it again."

"Too right you won't! Harold, is it? Harold what? So I can keep the likes of you from coming in here again!"

"Er, yes. Harold. Harold Porter and Olivia...Measley. So sorry, sir." The couple ducked past the angry barman and hurried for the door. They exited onto the street laughing, arm in arm, and turned into the first empty alley they encountered. A twist on the spot later, they were home.

After washing up, they climbed into bed, both completely knackered. Ginny stretched out on her side and Harry settled himself behind her. They exchanged their good nights and he was almost asleep when: "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Totally leaving you for Harold."

"'S kay. I was gonna see if you could hook me up with Olivia, anyway."


End file.
